Poetry Blog by poemagraphic
He had an absence behind his eyes
He walked and talked and breathed.
But it was as if something had left him
As if something was taken from him.
Only partially in the present
As if some deeper part of him
Had been long extinguished.
We conversed long in to that dark night
Me, trying to get the measure of the man
Him, giving no outer indications of malady...
Friday 27th December 2019 11:36 am
You could hear reindeer hoofs a skidding
As they slid across the ground
And the ringing of the sleigh bells
As they peeled round and round
As he galloped into Market Street
In his red hat and coat upon his chest
His name was Santa
And he drove the fastest sled in the West
Now Santa loved a widower
A feller known as Bill
Who owned a pet sh...
Friday 20th December 2019 4:33 pm
A party fit for a Prince
The taste is bitter sweet as my laughter turns to tears
We mocked and derided their misfortunes, didn’t give a care
In the hearth a fire was burning, warming all who drew near
Many gathered to drink a glass, of wine, spirits and of beer.
Food there was a plenty, many a dish and course
We scoffed till all were full, had expletive filled discourse....
Friday 6th December 2019 3:51 pm
Always complaining I have no money
Is not in the slightest a little bit funny
Spending sixty quid a month on a cup of coffee
Aroma wafting up my nose that’s a little bit toffee
A snob you say!
That’s a little bit strong for a flat white guy
I say, It is up to me exactly just what I buy
Bloody scroungers, freezing outside the door
With me sat in...
Thursday 17th January 2019 9:46 pm
One for the ladies... You can grab it if you 'Like'
To Vawtar Thank you so much for reciting this.
Out of his reach
When we first met, it was like ‘Fifty shades of grey’
Those sweet nothings you whispered, I would swoon as you say
When sex was like a marathon, lasting all-night
In so many positions, me holding you tight
Brazilian, vagazzled, gone was the that...
Saturday 12th January 2019 12:34 am
Finding new complexity in hand writing dexterity
Searching for lost artistry in the guise of poetry.
At times the images so surreal, in my mind a cotton reel
Unravels till a tangled thread weaves a web around my bed
Then ‘Itsy Bitsy’ comes to call. Arachnophobia cause me to fall
Awaking with a nasty bump, in my throat a ticking lump.
As I yawn, a black...
Friday 4th January 2019 11:49 am